


A Christmas Proposal

by freckleslikeconstellations



Series: The Two Brothers [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Drama, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Multi, Sexual References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckleslikeconstellations/pseuds/freckleslikeconstellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson visit Mycroft and you unexpectedly on Christmas Day it makes for some interesting consequences to say the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoy this and I wish you all a very happy Christmas. :)

You love that feeling you get when you wake up on Christmas Day. That feeling that comes from everything being so calm and peaceful before whatever chaos and madness the day brings and from knowing that you’ll be getting to spend the day with the people you love. Or in this case _person_. 

 

And you smile now as you roll onto your side. 

 

Mycroft Homes lies facing you. It’s rare that you get the chance to see him asleep, and even rarer that you get to witness him being in such a state on Christmas Day, since despite your five-year relationship this is only the second Christmas that you’ll be spending together. So, for a moment you just gaze at him and drink in how unusually smooth and relaxed his face is, taking in the brush of eyelashes that are attached to peaceful, unmoving eyelids, the small smile on his beautiful face, which makes you wonder if he’s dreaming, and the soft rise and fall of his fawn coloured pyjama clad chest. 

 

Then, unable to resist even though you know it will probably wake him, you shuffle forwards so that your body is closer to his, before you bend your head so that you can press a gentle kiss to his collarbone. 

 

You feel him beginning to stir just as you’re pulling back from him, and by the time that you’re able to look at his face once more you see that his eyes are now open and that they’re shining with something both very alert and playful. _Too_ alert in fact. 

 

So, “Were you just pretending to be asleep right now?” you ask him suspiciously, pretending to be outraged with him as you do so. 

 

And a naughty kind of chuckle escapes his lips at both your question and at the knowing smile, which now forms on your face. Then his arm sneaks around you so that his long fingers come to settle on your waist, before he confesses, “I might have been,” as he tries to compose his face into the perfect picture of pouting innocence. 

 

So, “Mycroft Holmes,” you mutter in a playful tone of disbelief, before you bat at him with your hand and then roll on top of him, and he makes a delicious, _‘Mmm,’_ sound at the feel of you. 

 

Then, “Yes dear?” he asks you, still with an air of innocence about him despite the smile that’s now toying around those devilish lips of his-devilish of course because of what they’re capable of doing to you. 

 

So you tap him on the nose and smile playfully back at him for a moment, before you bend your head even lower and murmur, “You’re a very bad man,” with your mouth close to his. Then you close the gap between you and press a couple of teasing kisses to his lips. But you soon pull away when he attempts to turn them into something deeper, just as you knew he would, and as he makes a gorgeous sound of protest you press a finger to his lips, whilst you say, “And bad men deserve to be punished,” before the pair of you exchange another teasing smile with each other as you take your finger away from his lips once more.

 

But then, “I assure you,” he murmurs as he tilts his head up so that he can whisper the words more directly into your ear, “Aside from that single transgression my behaviour has been exceptional all year.”

 

And, _“Hmm,”_ you say consideringly now as you lean back until you come to be sitting on top of him, whilst one of your hands toys with the fabric of his pyjama jacket, twirling it around and around until you could quite easily jerk him up into a sitting position if you wanted. Then, “I think, if my memory serves me right, there’s been _more_ than that one transgression from you all year”- you begin. 

 

So, “I fear in that case your mind must have been addled,” Mycroft interrupts you, before he goes on, “Perhaps someone brainwashed you?” 

 

So, “Perhaps it was _you_ ,” you suggest now with an expression of mock horror on your face, as you loosen your hold on his pyjama top and lean temptingly closer to him once more. 

 

And, “Mmm,” Mycroft agrees, letting out a chuckle now as your body slides down over his once more. Then you press another teasing kiss to his lips, before he turns you so that he’s now the one lying on top of you. And then he murmurs, “Though why I’d want to brainwash anyone so strikingly beautiful is a mystery”-

 

So, “Yes,” you say in between kissing him, “It just doesn't make _any_ sense at all does it?” you ask, and he releases another delicious chuckle against your skin, before he bends his head so that he can kiss you more fervently. 

 

You let out a noise of pleasure against his lips, before you slide yours willingly apart as you feel the push of his tongue asking you to do so. Then you gasp a little and pant into his mouth as the kiss deepens, cupping the back of his head with your hand as it does so. 

 

And things get considerably more heated between you when you begin to surge your body up and down rhythmically against his, and you create a delicious friction between you until Mycroft forces his head away from yours with a gasp. 

 

Then he says, “As much as I’d like to continue this we should probably get up now if we want to eat our lunch at a decent time,” and though his face is quite serious as he says such words it softens again when he sees that your lips are swollen from all the kissing. 

 

So, “Who’s being punished now?” you ask in a bit of a groan as he rolls off you and gets out of bed a moment later. 

 

And your words cause him to look back at you over his shoulder with a smile, before he muses, “As I recall _you_ also happen to have made more than one transgression against me this year,” in a playful fashion. 

 

So, “Like?” you challenge him as you prop yourself up on your elbows now so that you can look at him properly. 

 

 _“Like,”_ Mycroft begins, “At that party a couple of weeks ago?” 

 

And your brow furrows now as your mind goes back to it, before it quickly clears again as you remember how, at that particular party, which had been one of several that you’d accompanied Mycroft to in the past month, you’d spent most of it teasing him as you’d made light, playful touches to his arms and back. Not to mention when you’d run your bare leg up and down against the side of his trouser clad one, whilst he’d been attempting to have a serious conversation with a fellow member of government as you’d all sat down for dinner. Something, which had made his lip quirk upward and his words momentarily falter, before he’d hurriedly got the conversation back on track a moment later, whilst his eyes had deliberately avoided yours all the time. He’d made you pay for it later by making you do some waiting of your own. But it had been so, _so_ worth it. 

 

And as you come out of the memory now the same playful smile that you’d been wearing for most of that night comes back to your face, and Mycroft gives you a little smile of his own as it does so. 

 

Then, “Yeah, I guess that was pretty bad of me,” you confess.

 

“ _‘Pretty bad,’_ doesn't even begin to cover it my dear, which is exactly why you deserve even more punishment for that one,” he tells you, so you grin at him, before you sit up properly and get out of bed. 

 

Your eyes watch him all the time as you do so, and you feel a thrill of something rush through you when you take in how his eyes slide to admire how you look in your thin pyjama top and your pyjama shorts, and though he’d worried about you being cold in bed last night because of them you can tell that he’s not even thinking of complaining about your decision now as his eyes roam down to your mostly bare legs. 

 

Then you make your way over to him, swaying your hips a little as you do so, before you press another soft and delicious kiss to his lips. And as you pull back from him with your arms loosely looped around his neck you tell him in a breathy kind of whisper, “Happy Christmas Myc.”

 

So, “Happy Christmas F/N,” he murmurs, and he lowers his head and twists it then so that his soft breaths simply fall against your neck for a moment. Then he confesses, “And I should probably tell you my dear that if that was your idea of punishment then I think I found myself enjoying it far too much.”

 

So, “Oh _no_ ,” you correct him, before you tease, “That wasn't punishment, _this_ is punishment,” and now you pull away from him altogether, before you turn around and make your way to the adjoining bathroom so that you can take a shower. 

 

As he watches how you sway your hips teasingly again as you leave Mycroft knows that you’re testing his resolve to see whether he can resist joining you or not, and for a moment he’s close to succumbing and forgetting the timing for the Christmas lunch that he’d had planned out in his head altogether, and he even takes a decisive step forwards so that he can do so. But then, the feeling that he wants to make sure that this Christmas is a special one for you comes back to him, as you haven’t spent Christmas together for the last three years after all, and he knows that the success of the Christmas lunch will be a big part of whether the day ultimately feels as if its gone right for you or not. So in the end, as he decides to stick to his original plan, he huffs out a bit of a breath, swallows and then gets dressed. And as he does so he tries to console himself with the fact that he’ll have plenty of time after lunch to get to re-acquaint himself with your body once more, a fact that serves to put his mind at ease about the decision that he’s making for the most part. 

 

You feel both surprised and a little disappointed when Mycroft doesn't fail your test. Yet you know him well enough by now to be able to work out why he didn't. For you know that he’s been stressing himself out a little for the past couple of weeks because he wanted to make sure that this rare day off for you both-for what with you being a police officer and him the British government you don't exactly get much days off-was a nice one. And despite your protests that he needn't worry you know that he’d still done so. So after you dry yourself and dress and join him in the open plan kitchen where he’s already had his breakfast and is now beginning to prepare everything for the Christmas lunch, you go over and kiss him on the cheek, which is your own way of thanking him for his dedication to you today, and he smiles a little at you doing so.

 

Then, “You passed,” you murmur with your head still close to his.

 

And, “Mmm, are you disappointed?” he asks, swinging his head towards yours now so that he can look at you intently.

 

So, “A little,” you confess lightly, before you walk backwards from him a little. But then, “We’ll have all day after lunch after all,” you remind him. 

 

And, “That’s the only reason I passed,” he murmurs, eyeing what you’re wearing-a f/c Christmas jumper over a light t-shirt paired with jeans and fluffy, stripy socks that are partly hidden by your black slip on shoes-approvingly, and you do a little twirl for his benefit, before you make to fetch your own breakfast. 

 

But you can feel his eyes watching you still as you pour your cereal, so you look across to him from the kitchen island once more. 

 

Then he nods at you, before he asks, “I was wondering, is that my favourite shampoo you’re wearing?” and as he finishes his eyes go back to the food he’s preparing on the counter. 

 

So, “It might be,” you tell him with a bit of a teasing smile, and his eyes flick to yours now, his lips quirking upward as he does so. 

 

Then, _“Interesting,”_ he tells you. 

 

So, “Isn't it just?” you ask him playfully, before the two of you both exchange small, knowing smiles with each other. 

 

You chatter lightly together as you eat your breakfast, Mycroft tells you when prompted how nice it is for him to finally have a day off with you and you tell him about this programme that you want to watch later on, which has him suggesting that perhaps you could open the mulled wine and drink it, whilst you watch it together.

 

Then, once you finish, you carry on doing the cooking preparation, whilst Mycroft goes to take his own shower, and as he’s doing so you put the radio on. 

 

When Mycroft returns to the kitchen-now wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up paired with black trousers, black socks and his usual smart black shoes-it’s to find that a soft classical piece of Christmas themed music is playing, and as he hears it and sees you bustling about the kitchen quite happily as you hum along to it, he can’t help but just stop by the doorway and observe the scene for a moment. Then as he takes you in, in your silly Christmas jumper, the paper snowflakes that you insisted on putting up on the windows a couple of weeks ago and the bits of gold tinsel and holly that you've hung around the place, he can’t help but wish that he could come down to such sights every Christmas morning. 

 

You don’t spot him observing you. So when you just carry on humming he can’t resist sneaking up on you as you stand in front of the oven, whilst you adjust the saucepans, before he wraps his arms around your waist. 

 

Then you let out a startled cry of exclamation and your body automatically tenses, before you realize who it is. And then your body sinks back and relaxes against his as you turn your head to tell him, “You surprised me,” in a breathy voice, patting your hand against his arm as you do so. 

 

So, “Sorry,” Mycroft murmurs, before he kisses you on the shoulder and snuggles his head down against the crook of your neck so that he can breathe you in. 

 

But, “It’s okay,” you tell him, as you cup the back of his head for a moment with your hand. 

 

And then for a while you just stay like that, you with your body leaning back against his, a wooden spoon tilted slightly upwards in one of your hands, its end stretching out over the oven, whilst your free hand now clutches onto one of Mycroft’s arms, which are wrapped around you as he half-closes his eyes so that he can focus more entirely on the feel and scent of you. 

 

Then, after a few moments you part naturally from each other and things move quite pleasantly forwards, with the lunch on track to be served approximately about an hour and a half before the Queen’s Speech, whilst a light kind of teasing conversation passes back and forth between you as you almost do a little dance around each other. In fact you've just suggested that since everything’s under control for now you should go into the living room together, which in turn has made Mycroft take a few decisive steps towards you so that he can kiss and run his hands through that h/c hair of yours when there comes a knock on the front door. 

 

You’re both instantly surprised by this, and the first thing that you do is look at each other to see if either one of you is expecting anyone and has simply forgotten to tell the other. But when you see the same amount of confusion on each other’s faces you head towards the door instinctively, whilst Mycroft follows close behind you. 

 

Then, as soon as you open it you only catch a glimpse of dark curls, pale skin and a blue scarf, before Sherlock pushes his way past you inside, murmuring, “Our electricity’s down so we need to use yours,” as he does so. Mrs. Hudson and John follow closely behind him, with John saying a, “Sorry about this,” whilst he ushers Mrs. Hudson forwards so that she doesn't stop and speak to you.

 

So, still in a state of shock, you close the door slowly behind them, the wreath bouncing a little on the front of the black door as you do so, before you turn and follow them with your eyes as they make their way into the kitchen, carrying several white plastic bags between them. Then Mycroft and you shoot each other a puzzled look, with Mycroft’s brow distinctly furrowed as he does so, before you follow quickly after them. 

 

When you get into the kitchen it’s to see that all the bags have now been placed on the kitchen island and that Sherlock is already beginning to take the contents out of each of them, and as they become increasingly spread out over the kitchen island, you begin to notice that all the items seem to amount to another Christmas lunch, before you get distracted again. 

 

For Mycroft, still reasonably close to the door unlike you who've taken a few more cautious steps and are now standing off to the side, not far from John and Mrs. Hudson, asks, “What do you mean your electricity’s down?” and you can tell from his face and his dominating stance as he stands with his powerful legs a little apart but well grounded, not to mention the way that he folds his arms across his chest that he’s far from happy about this new development. 

 

So you’re just about to go over and try to calm him down about it all when Mrs. Hudson moves towards you. 

 

Your face softens as she does so, and the two of you exchange brief hugs, you noticing with a smile how wrapped up in a warm coat and scarf she is, which must be John’s doing you think, before she tells you, “It’s so good to see you again F/N, you don’t pop around half-as-much as I’d like since you've been living here.” And your body stiffens a little at her last remark, whilst your eyes automatically flick across to check whether or not Mycroft’s heard it. You can tell from the more pronounced frown on his face and by the slight tightening of his jaw that he has however, and once more you feel worried about the way things are progressing. 

 

But you don’t get a chance to go over to Mycroft and reassure him or to reply to Mrs. Hudson’s words, for Sherlock calls across, “It’s because my brother likes to keep F/N all to himself Mrs. Hudson.”

 

And as Mycroft takes a couple of angry steps forwards with an ugly flush on his face your arm goes around Mrs. Hudson instinctively and she lets out a coo of surprise as you do so. 

 

Then, “You landing on our doorstep has got nothing to do with my relationship with F/N. Now tell me, what are you doing here Sherlock?” Mycroft growls, and you bite at your lip, your hand tightening on Mrs. Hudson’s arm as you do so. 

 

“We’re here, as I've told you dear brother, because our electricity isn't working. Neither in turn is our heating. So, as we obviously couldn't stay in Baker Street with things that way I racked my brain for all the other places that we could go to. It’s then that I remembered that you were intending to spend Christmas with F/N shacked up here, and since none of us have seen F/N for nearly a month I thought it was high time that we paid her a visit”- and then, as Mycroft’s eyes flash dangerously Sherlock goes on smoothly-“Of course I also knew that your house would probably be nice and warm, which would serve Mrs. Hudson well,” and he pauses for a moment now, before he raises both his eyebrows at his brother as he goes on, “Or perhaps you’d prefer it if, in the true spirit of Christmas that you surely invoke Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson were to _freeze_ to her death?” 

 

And Mycroft’s mouth falters between being open and closed for a moment now, before he instinctively looks across to Mrs. Hudson, and his face immediately softens a little when he catches sight of you and the way that you’re frowning at him as you keep your arm protectively around her. Then, “Of _course_ I don’t want anyone to freeze to death,” he says, looking distinctly ruffled as he looks back to his brother, and Sherlock waves a hand as if to suggest the case is closed. _“But”-_ Mycroft begins, unable to help himself, and you can tell that he’s going to protest at the fact that they've interrupted your Christmas together now, so you let go of Mrs. Hudson at once and begin to make your way across to him. 

 

Then, “Don’t,” you hiss warningly at him, whilst your hand clenches around his wrist and you position yourself so that you've got your back to the others so that they won’t pick up on your words. Then you go on in a pleading tone, “We’ll have time together later, let’s just try to keep everyone happy for now okay?” 

 

And then when you see that his eyes are flickering and that he’s beginning to reluctantly relent to your idea, you reach up to peck him quickly on the lips in an encouraging fashion, and Mrs. Hudson and John hurriedly avert their gazes as you do, whilst Sherlock makes an irritated sound in his throat. Then you turn back to them to assure them, “Don’t worry, it’s fine, we’re both glad to have you with us.” Yet when you look back to Mycroft and see that he’s shooting his brother a death glare over your shoulder, a fact which doesn't seem to deter Sherlock from smirking in a rather delicious fashion back at him, you squeeze at Mycroft’s wrist at once, before you let go of it and step back so that you can give him a bit of a nudge with your hip. Then, “ _Aren't_ we Mycroft?” you ask him in a loud and slightly threatening tone. 

 

And Mycroft tears his gaze away from his brother, before he looks back down at you. Then, when he sees the rather pointed stormy look that you’re casting him he swallows and clears his throat, before he says quickly, “Yes of course we are my dear,” in a soothing fashion as his hand goes to your back. Yet he’s soon glaring at his brother again when Sherlock mimes gagging at what he just called you. 

 

Mrs. Hudson has noticed the consulting detective’s behaviour too however, and when she says, “Oh Sherlock,” reproachfully you sigh, for this is already turning into a far more difficult Christmas than the one you’d anticipated, and already you’re not quite sure what to make of it all. 

 

But, knowing that you better do some damage control at the very least, you pat at Mycroft’s hand with yours to get his attention, before you look up at him and suggest in a low voice, “Why don’t you get your brother and John settled in the living room and Mrs. Hudson and I can work out how we’re going to adjust the food so that we can all eat at the same time?” For although you’re quite keen on getting Mrs. Hudson sitting down and relaxing too you know that you’re going to need all of her help to work out what in hell’s name you’re supposed to do with the food now that the original plans been ruined. 

 

But Mycroft just stares at you for a moment, his eyes studying you as he does so. Then he lets out a bit of a weary, resigned sigh, before he pulls away from you and makes to step forwards so that he can invite his brother and John into the living room. 

 

Yet, struck by a sudden idea, you dart forwards at the last moment and grasp loosely at his wrist again, before you stand on your tiptoes so that you can hiss into his ear, “Perhaps now would be a good time to open the mulled wine.”

 

But Mycroft, _definitely_ not feeling happy about that idea, turns back towards you now, and you can tell that he wants to save it for later on and for just the two of you as you’d originally planned. 

 

Yet once more you give him a bit of a forceful, pressing stare, for you have to try and entertain the guests somehow and this is the best way that you can think of right now. Then he huffs out a weary breath, before he wheels back around and says, “Sherlock, Dr. Watson, if you could both follow me please,” and you have to grimace a little at the formality of his tone, for it sounds like he works at a dentist’s or something. 

 

Sherlock meanwhile quips to John, “That right there is the whole of his career aspirations for me in a nutshell,” which in turn gets John shaking his head and throwing Sherlock a warning look, whilst Mycroft sends his brother yet another dirty look. 

 

But, “Mycroft _please_ ,” you beg a little desperately, for the last thing that you need is for him to start arguing with his brother again, and he must sense that you really need him to listen to you right now, for finally he turns around and begins to lead them out of the room, albeit huffing out another breath as he does so. 

 

It’s a relief when all three of them disappear therefore, even though Mycroft and Sherlock start bickering with each other again as they do so, whilst John wears a pained expression as if the brothers are already giving him a headache. 

 

Whilst it’s even more of a relief when Mrs. Hudson-now with her coat and scarf off and with her sleeves slightly rolled up-and you work out that it won’t be too much of a hassle to get the food back on track once more, deciding to wisely abandon the half-frozen turkey that Sherlock had apparently insisted on bringing with them and to get everyone just sharing the turkey that Mycroft and you had bought for yourselves instead, which in true Mycroft fashion is far bigger than it really needed to be. And you almost feel grateful that Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson showed up for a moment because at least it means that you won’t be forced to eat turkey sandwiches for so many days on end. But it really is only for a moment though, for you know how unhappy their presence seems to have made Mycroft, especially that of his brother. And you can’t help but feel a little sorry that he’s had whatever plans that had been in his head spoiled. But though the whole thing makes you want to sigh you don’t, for you don’t want Mrs. Hudson picking up on your true feelings. Yet worried that she still might anyway you try to send her into the living room, whilst you add more potatoes and vegetables to the mix, insisting that now you know what you're doing she should go and put her feet up. She still tries to stay and help you though, bless her. But finally you persuade her to leave, and you feel another sense of relief at seeing her disappear down the hallway and when you know that you've done right by her, even if your motives for doing so were a little shady. 

 

Mycroft joins you a minute later and he comes to wrap his arms around you and to press an apologetic kind of kiss to your neck. Then he says, “I am sorry about this,” and, “I did impress upon my brother that I wasn't happy with the way that he’d just shown up like that.”

 

So, “I'm sure you did,” you tell him, your lips quirking upward a little, for it takes little for you to imagine such a thing. But then as your face turns more serious again you turn so that you’re facing him, before you urge him, “Don’t go mentioning it again though will you?” and Mycroft opens his mouth to protest, but you take his hands in yours to quieten him. Then you go on more desperately, “I don’t want John or Mrs. Hudson getting too uncomfortable about coming here in the way they did, it’s not their fault,” for it’s clear to you that Sherlock had left them with little choice in the matter. Yet when you see that Mycroft doesn't look too concerned about upsetting either John or Mrs. Hudson, you remind him, “ _I_ don’t want to feel uncomfortable either, you know how I hate it when people argue,” in a last ditch attempt to persuade him. 

 

And Mycroft’s face finally softens at that, before he murmurs, “I do,” in a quiet, respectful fashion. Then he bends so that he can press another kiss to your neck. 

 

You wriggle pleasantly at him doing such a thing, before you peck him on the lips. And then as the two of you smile at each other you feel happy that he seems to have calmed down a bit. 

 

Things, in fact, do continue most pleasantly for a while, with Mycroft and you taking it in turns to check on the food in between chatting to the guests. You sit on the arm of the armchair that Mycroft’s sitting on as you do so and toy with his hand as he doesn't seem particularly keen on joining in on the conversation and you want to let him know that you haven’t forgotten about him, whilst Sherlock and John-now free from their scarves and coats too-take up the settee and Mrs. Hudson sits on the other armchair that's opposite Mycroft’s. Whilst the conversation ends up mostly revolving around old Christmas parties at Baker Street, with John and you mainly taking the lead, and you making waspish remarks whenever Sherlock feels the need to interject his opinion, which does have the pleasant side-effect of making Mycroft chuckle and Sherlock frown. And all in all you find that you’re coping quite well with your unexpected role as Christmas hostess, especially when lunch is only served ten minutes later than planned. 

 

But as you all move back into the kitchen so that you can eat around the table there the tension between the Holmes brothers seems to surface once more. 

 

It starts when Mycroft sits at the head of the table. John’s already placed himself on the other side of him so you begin to make your way across to the seat on Mycroft’s right-hand side, which is free, but Sherlock pushes against you and gets there first, and as he slides into his seat he wears a smug kind of satisfied look on his face as he does so. 

 

So John, seeing what’s just happened and the way that you’re faltering because of it, goes, “You can sit here if you like F/N,” before he makes to get up. 

 

But, you, not wanting to cause any disruption yourself, just state, “No, no it’s fine, I’ll go over here instead.” Then, whilst Mycroft tells off his brother for being rude and Sherlock rolls his eyes at him childishly in response you give John a bit of a forced smile, before you make your way around the table so that you end up sitting opposite your boyfriend instead. 

 

You hope that, that might be the end of any more silliness between the brothers for a while, even though they are now sitting next to each other, and for a moment or two it honestly does appear to be. For you find yourself laughing along with John at the shocked expression on Mrs. Hudson’s face, which had been caused by the bang of the cracker she’d just pulled with the good doctor. Then a few moments later as you make to take a sip of your wine you feel a slight tap of someone’s hand upon your shoulder and hear someone clearing their throat beside you. 

 

So you look up instinctively and lower your glass slightly as you do so, before your face softens at once when you see Mycroft standing there, having come all the way from the other side of the table just so that he can ask you rather formally, “F/N, would you do me the honour of pulling my cracker with me?” and you can’t help but smile at that. For you know that Mycroft’s always felt awkward about openly displaying any of his true feelings towards you in front of other people, and you know that he tends to go even more formal because of such a thing. 

 

So, “Of course,” you smile encouragingly at him, hoping that it might lead to more pleasant moments between you even though you've got the guests here, before you lower your glass to the table once more, whilst John smiles, Mrs. Hudson makes a soft, _‘Aw,’_ of exclamation at you both and Sherlock sniggers at the way that his brother had just asked you. 

 

Then you swing around on your chair so that you can grasp the other end of the cracker more firmly and Mycroft adjusts his own position himself, smiling steadily at you as he does so, before his face becomes more serious as you start to pull it. 

 

It doesn't take long for you to win the contest and the cracker issues a loud bang as you do so, whilst Mycroft smiles down at you, and you, knowing full well that he’d just let you win, smile back up at him. 

 

“Goodness they’re a bit loud aren't they?” Mrs. Hudson exclaims in the next moment.

 

And John quips, “I thought you’d be used to loud by now, living in such close proximity to Sherlock Mrs. H,” which makes you all laugh, and even Mycroft chuckles appreciatively at John’s words. 

 

But he frowns a moment later, for Sherlock, who’d used the opportunity when everyone was laughing to get up from the table, now pushes roughly past him, before he whips his hand inside your end of the cracker and tugs the joke out. And it’s only when he catches a glimpse of your startled expression that his face softens a little from the mission he’d been intent on. Then he says a quick, “I'm collecting the jokes,” by way of explanation, before he hurries back to his chair with it, looking down at it as he does so.

 

But, “I wish you’d stop being so rude”- Mycroft begins a little tersely a moment later as his eyes still survey his brother. 

 

Yet Sherlock cuts him off at once when he announces, “I think you should have won that one Mycroft, this joke fits you perfectly,” and he looks grimly satisfied as he does so.

 

So, _“Sherlock,”_ John hisses angrily at him, whilst your body stiffens and stills, with your hand still holding the remnants of the cracker and your position still turned towards Mycroft who wears even more of a frown on his face. 

 

But regardless of the tension that he’s brought to the room once more Sherlock continues to ask, “ ‘What does Santa do with fat elves?’” and then, when his question is just met with a stony silence he goes on, “ ‘He sends them to an Elf farm,’” before he quips, “I wish I could send _you_ away to an ‘Elf farm,’ Mycroft,” and though Mrs. Hudson lets out a polite sound of acknowledgement and John makes an embarrassed kind of sound in his throat, no one actually laughs, with your gaze automatically turning towards Mycroft. 

 

Yet he doesn't look at you. Instead his face just becomes stained with red, whilst a muscle twitches in his jaw as he flounces off back to his end of the table and sits down without another word, depositing the now limp remnants of his cracker with a thump on the table as he does so. 

 

And you swallow; feeling troubled by how stormy Mycroft’s eyes suddenly appear and how tense his jaw is. 

 

Yet still Sherlock’s not finished for he asks, “How’s the diet going Mycroft?” before he goes on maliciously, “I couldn't help but notice that you seem to have included a lot of vegetables in your Christmas lunch this year, as if you're not losing all that weight as quickly as you'd like,” and Mycroft’s hands tense upon his cutlery. 

 

Yet it’s you who next speaks. You who says rather haughtily, “It's not just Mycroft. I'm trying to eat more healthily and keep my weight down too.” For you know that Sherlock’s just being his usual idiotic self, but you know too that Mycroft’s weight has always been a sensitive issue to him, and its taken you long enough to convince him that for one thing he’s not overweight and for another, as long as he’s mostly careful then there’s no reason for why he should beat himself up when he isn't. So you’re not about to let Sherlock undo all your good work now. 

 

And Mycroft, knowing that you’re trying to rescue the situation and make him feel a little better, sends you a fleeting look of gratitude. Then he tells his brother, “F/N’s quite right, we _are_ both trying to eat more healthily,” in a prompt fashion. But although the meal proceeds in silence for a moment Mycroft’s still smarting from his brother’s attempts to embarrass him in front of you, and so it’s only after he’s eaten another couple of mouthfuls that he asks, “Was yours the only place to have its power affected today?” For he knows that the fact that Sherlock is here today is probably no accident. 

 

Yet Sherlock, not yet ready to reveal why he’s there, snipes back, “Why don’t you just make one of your minions go and conduct a survey? Or better still just check whose lights are on via the CCTV footage later tonight?” 

 

And Mycroft’s face tightens at that for a moment. But then it relaxes a little again as he reminds his brother smoothly, “Even the government gets a day off,” before he sips at some of his wine. 

 

So, “Clearly or you wouldn't be here,” Sherlock replies scathingly, which in turn has John and you exchanging a look with each other, whilst you ask each other silently if the brothers argument will ever come to an end. 

 

And Mrs. Hudson is obviously thinking along similar lines, for a moment later she says, _“Really,”_ in a disapproving fashion, before she asks, “Can’t you two just put aside these silly spats of yours for one day? It is Christmas after all.”

 

So, _“Yes,”_ you say now, before you take the opportunity to add, “It would be nice.”

 

And as he looks at you Mycroft can see that you’re trying to remind him of the earlier conversation that you’d had with him. So, “Perhaps in that case we should talk about something altogether more pleasant,” he suggests, nodding a little at you and feeling a sense of relief when he can see that you now look more satisfied with him. 

 

Yet, “What I'm wondering about is what you've got F/N for Christmas Mycroft? I know how you like to spoil her,” Mrs. Hudson says as she takes up the opportunity to talk about something else eagerly, and you blush, because you've found yourself in a situation where you’re gushing about the latest thing that Mycroft had bought you either down the phone or in person to Mrs. Hudson more than once. 

 

Whilst Mycroft too seems to feel a little awkward at her question and a light blush covers the middle of his face, before he says, “We don’t usually open our presents to each other until after lunch.” 

 

Yet, _“Usually?”_ Sherlock begins a little scathingly, before he adds, “This is _only_ the second Christmas you’re spending together.” 

 

And you tense up a little at that, but though Mycroft gives Sherlock the usual dark look that he ends up giving his brother nine out of ten times when he’s speaking, he seems too suddenly caught up in his own thought to make a verbal response.

 

Similarly when Mrs. Hudson says, “Oh,” a moment later, before she looks a little ruffled as she goes on, “Well, in that case I insist that you don’t spoil the surprise by telling us,” Mycroft again looks distracted. 

 

Yet just a moment later he says, “In the circumstances though I think that we’ll save our gift exchanges for this evening,” in a thoughtful tone, so you give him a bit of a warning look, for you can tell that he’s just made Mrs. Hudson and John feel uncomfortable again. But then he seems too caught up in his thought again to even notice you properly, as if he’s trying to re-work the schedule for the day that he had in his mind.

 

So when he just sends you a bit of a distracted, weary smile when he realizes that you’re looking at him, you sigh at him, before you ask, “Mycroft can I have a quick word with you?” as you gesture your head off to the side. 

 

And Mycroft’s eyes widen with something, before he swallows. Then, “Yes, yes of course you can my dear,” he tells you hurriedly as he gets up, which sends Sherlock rolling his eyes again. 

 

And you stand up too, before when you see how Mycroft’s standing a little awkwardly off to the side of the table as he waits for further instruction and looks at you a little anxiously you huff out a breath, stride over there, grab at his arm and drag him to the corner of the room. 

 

Then, when you’re both facing the wall with your hand still on his arm, you half-look at him as you warn him, “You’re making John and Mrs. Hudson feel uncomfortable again.”

 

And Mycroft starts a little at that, before he asks you, “ _Am_ I?” and you can tell that he genuinely hadn't realized. 

 

So, _“Yes,”_ you tell him through nearly gritted teeth, before you take a bit of a deep breath. Then when he looks at you even more anxiously you go on, “So just try not to do it again, ignore your brother and”-

 

But you break off then for Mycroft makes a sound to suggest that ignoring his brother is easier said than done. Yet worried that he’s just made you angrier with him he follows it quickly by asking, “What else were you going to say?” 

 

So you smile at him knowingly for a moment, before you tell him, “I was just going to remind you about what I'm looking forward to doing with you once everyone’s gone,” and Mycroft instantly gets a stunned smirk on his face at that, before he makes a soft sound of approval in his throat when your fingers begin to caress his arm. 

 

And you smirk at him a moment yourself, whilst your eyes sparkle, before you let go of him, turn around and sashay back to the table. You don’t notice the small frown that appears on Sherlock’s face as you do so, or how the size of it further increases as he sees his brother looking more pleased than ever as he too makes his way back to the table, following closely behind you, his eyes dipping down to fix themselves on your tempting behind as he does so.

 

But even though you missed that small act you soon become aware of Sherlock again, for unable to resist he says as soon as you sit down, “I don’t know why you’re looking so pleased with yourself F/N”-

 

And, _“Sherlock,”_ John hisses across the table at him as he tries to convince his friend not to spoil everything, and Mycroft too looks like he would like nothing more than for his brother to shut up. 

 

But Sherlock simply goes on like he’s unaware of all this, saying, “Whatever promises my brother may have made to you when you were over there right now, I can assure you that he’s got you the usual uninspiring gifts,” and your shoulders hunch up, before you listen as Sherlock lists, “Clothes, jewellery, expensive perfume, books that you've no doubt dropped hints that you’d like to read and a dirty weekend in Paris that he’s probably not even paying for all of because it coincides with a work trip there”-

 

Yet, “They make be uninspiring to _you_ , Sherlock, but to me they’re all I ever wanted and more, and I couldn't be happier with them,” you get out over Mrs. Hudson’s disapproving exclamation of Sherlock’s name, whilst your eyes flick between trying to look at Mycroft reassuringly and at Sherlock with something harder in them. And you feel more annoyed with the consulting detective than ever as you do so. Especially when you consider the way that he’s trying to spoil the moment where Mycroft and you will open your gifts to each other, and you’re determined not to let him spoil that part of the day for you. 

 

But, “ _Oh_ , and I'm not quite sure that the handcuffs you got for my brother will be suitable either. In fact they might be a bit loose since you seem to have over-accommodated for the size of his fat wrists,” Sherlock goes on when he sees how much you’re trying to not let him ruin things, and John nearly chokes on his mouthful, Mrs. Hudson lets out a startled, _‘Oh, there’s no need to be saying things like that around the dinner table, surely?’_ whilst you, feeling so embarrassed, not to mention scared of what’s currently going through Mycroft’s head at the knowledge that you've bought him such an experimental gift, duck your head down, and a furious blush covers your face as you do so. 

 

Yet you look up just a moment later when you hear the scraping of someone’s chair as they get up, and then you hold your breath as Mycroft turns so that he’s hovering in an intimidating fashion over his brother as he huffs out both a furious and embarrassed, “Right.” Then you listen as he says, “ _You_ might find it amusing to try and spoil F/N’s and my gifts for each other, but we do not,” and then he pauses and swallows a little, before he goes on, “Those gifts are personal and private and strictly between us”-

 

“Too _right_ they are,” Sherlock quips, which only makes the flush that’s on Mycroft’s face darken. 

 

And then he huffs out a frustrated breath, before he says, “The point is Sherlock you came to us here unexpectedly today and we let you in and allowed you to stay”-

 

“Yeah, you _reluctantly_ allowed us to stay,” Sherlock interrupts darkly now, before he adds, “With you only doing so because you knew that it would make F/N cross and uncomfortable if you didn't, which would mean no sex for you later”-

 

“But if you can’t control yourself and allow everyone to have a nice Christmas then I'm afraid that, that goodwill shown by us will have to be withdrawn and you’ll have to leave,” Mycroft finishes looking visibly flushed, and there’s a distinct uncomfortable silence as he does so. Yet even so, and even though it makes you bite at your lip, you don’t try to protest against the fact that Mycroft’s making everyone uncomfortable this time, for as much as you like Sherlock he’s really been pushing your limits today and you know that there has to be a line drawn for your own sake. So you just sit there quietly instead. 

 

And Sherlock does the same for a moment, studying Mycroft with cool, glittering eyes, before he wrenches his mouth open to say, “I'm sure that would go down well with Mummy, you throwing your brother out on Christmas Day”-

 

Yet, “I feel your behaviour today would similarly appal her, so I'm not going to worry too much about what she might think of my own,” Mycroft interrupts his brother coolly, and you can tell that although he’s trying to stay in control of his brother and the situation he’s still being tested by it. 

 

Then the two brothers just frown and look at each other for one long, hard moment, before finally Mycroft straightens up some more and says, “So, do we have a deal then? Will you do your best to behave for the rest of the day?” 

 

And Sherlock opens his mouth now to say something scathing no doubt, but you get there first with the pleading word of, _“Sherlock,”_ so he looks at you instead. And though it’s hard to know exactly what expression you’re pulling in that moment you can feel your face tightening as soon as he looks at you and you can hear this voice further pleading him in your head for him to just go along with things, even if it’s just for now, and not to make them worse. And perhaps in the end he gets your message. For something flickers over his face, before he seems to slump back in his seat a little as he nods reluctantly. 

 

So, “Good,” Mycroft gets out as he sits back down again, seemingly satisfied for the moment, and he sends you a quick look of appreciation for your well-timed intervention as he does so. 

 

The rest of the dinner passes in a rather awkward silence, and it’s only when Mrs. Hudson and John thank you both for the meal that Mycroft speaks again, waving a hand in a dismissive sort of gesture as he states, “F/N did most of it so you can direct all your gratitude towards her.”

 

“But if you hadn't of got us up then I would never have been up in time,” you explain quickly, wanting to improve his thoughtful mood if you can, and Mycroft sends you a bit of a smile for a moment. 

 

Yet the smile soon slips from his face when Sherlock lets out a bit of a groan, before he complains, “ _F/N_ , you’re going to make me throw up all my dinner”-

 

So, _“Sherlock,”_ Mycroft says warningly at once in a _‘What did we just talk about?’_ tone. 

 

But, “I can’t be nice when your _girlfriend_ provokes me into not being so Mycroft,” Sherlock snaps back, and he’d said the word, _‘girlfriend,’_ with such an uncomfortable swishing of his jaw that it had almost been like he’d struggled to get the word out altogether, let alone the context it had been in. 

 

And Mycroft’s face darkens with something for a moment, before it softens slightly when he turns to you and says, “F/N would _never_ do such a thing,” and then when you wink at him from across the table as if to say, _‘Wouldn't I?’_ his face grows more intent with a quite different emotion, before he frowns again when Sherlock lets out another groan and then shudders visibly. 

 

Yet thankfully, before the brothers can start to argue some more Mrs. Hudson asks,  
“Perhaps we could play something together this afternoon, have you got any board games here F/N?” in an attempt to try and stop such a thing, so you look at her gratefully. 

 

But then, in the next moment and as you digest her question more, you want to laugh, for Mycroft’s hardly the type of person to store a load of board games in his house, and by default you haven’t brought any in either. 

 

Then, “No,” you tell Mrs. Hudson. 

 

But, “We could play something else, how about charades?” John suggests, and you smile and nod at him, thankful for his good idea, whilst no one else seems to have any objections so charades it is. 

 

Yet just after you've abandoned all of the washing and drying up you’re making to follow Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson out of the kitchen when Mycroft, who’s standing by the doorway having apparently taken up the role of a rather peculiar sort of bouncer, stops you a moment after you cast a brief smile by putting his hand upon your arm. Then he says, “F/N,” softly. 

 

So you stop and automatically look up at him again, and his face softens a little as you do so, before it turns weary once more as he confesses, “I don’t think I’ll be playing.” 

 

 _“No?”_ you question as your eyes study him carefully, and though you can’t say that you’re feeling terribly surprised by this you have to admit that you feel disappointed that he won’t even give it a try. 

 

So, “No,” Mycroft confirms with a shake of his head, before he says, “But you go on,” as he lets go of your arm. 

 

And you feel a little torn for a moment because you don’t want to leave him when you can tell that he’s unhappy, but at the same time you feel like you should be going to play with the others and trying to continue your role as a good hostess too. So in the end you just ask him, “Are you sure?” because at least that way he has a chance to protest if it’s something that he feels really strongly about. But he just nods, so you give him a little half-smile; before you go past him rather awkwardly and then make your way towards the living room. 

 

Mycroft huffs out a little breath as you do so, before he turns and strides back to the table so that he can pour himself more of the wine. Then he sits down and begins to drink it, and as he does so he can’t help but feel frustrated with the way that things have turned out once more. But it’s his brother’s words and suggestions that circle through his head the most. For there were the usual remarks about his weight of course, and as Mycroft thinks on them his hand tightens around his wine glass in a reflex action, but it’s Sherlock’s suggestions that have gotten to him the most. The way that his brother had said that he likes to keep you for himself for one, which had almost sounded like he was taking you prisoner when combined with the fact that you haven’t seen some of your friends for a month. And though Mycroft knows that’s hardly his fault because you've been extremely busy yourself in the past month, what with you having just been promoted at work and it being the festive season and all, he can’t help but feel irritated and uneasy about it all the same. Whilst of course there’s the way that Sherlock had suggested that his presents to you were uninspiring, which is something that he always worries and frets about, to the point where he probably ends up spending a lot longer than he should on deciding what to get you because he just wants everything to be right and he doesn't want to disappoint you. And he worries that now you know about them that maybe they won’t seem enough to you and that maybe you’ll already have formed a negative image of them before you've even seen them, which only makes him feel even more irritated with Sherlock. For he’d managed to convince himself that, that combination of things that he’d got you had been the right one, but now he’s not so sure any more. But it’s the underlying theme to all of his brother’s words, which suggest that he isn't doing right by you, or that he could be doing more for you, which get to him the most. That sense underneath everything, which makes him worry about whether you’re truly happy. And he feels a trembling of something inside him now. But, before it can fill him up any more he hears your laugh coming from the living room, and the sudden sound of it makes him start, before a pang of loneliness hits him. 

 

Then, wanting to investigate further, he gets up and makes his way carefully to stand by the entrance of the living room, taking his glass with him as he does so. 

 

The game of charades seems to have become an elaborate version of _‘Guess Who?’_ without the fold over boards, and he watches as you laugh at John as he does a very funny impression of his brother. He’s got the arrogant way that Sherlock walks and talks to people down to an art form, and though the sight of it makes Mycroft smile fleetingly for a moment, and the sound of your laughter of course pleases him, the way that you’re doing so, so openly, just makes him feel even more lonely. For though one of the people in the room is his brother you've always seemed to fit in more alongside them than he ever has…

 

But once more you cut off his gloomy and uneasy thoughts. For you, somehow sensing his presence, turn around and send a grin towards him as soon as you locate him with your eyes, and though he only manages to send you a rather forced smile in return he can’t help but feel a little happier at the way that you seem so thrilled to see him. 

 

But then it’s Sherlock’s turn, and as soon as Mycroft sees the challenging look that his brother throws him he knows that he’s the one who Sherlock’s going to imitate, so he stiffens, bracing himself for even more feelings of uneasiness. 

 

Yet you _haven’t_ predicted what’s coming, and as soon as Sherlock begins his rather exaggerated impression and you get who it is, Mycroft sees your body stiffen at once. So when you look back at him anxiously he tries to give you the most reassuring look that he can. For he’s endured worse from his brother after all, worse too today, than Sherlock’s imitation of his upright, pompous walk and his hand twirling to imitate the slight spin of his umbrella. 

 

But then Sherlock decides to add speech to his little show, and as he swivels around, before he drops down before you, Mycroft catches the way that your body grows even tenser, before his brother takes your hands delicately with his and gets out in a long, elongated tone, “F/N, my dear, what on earth are you doing wearing such a _hideous_ jumper? I don’t recall picking that out for you this morning, come let’s get you out of that.”

 

You react at once; even before he does in fact, and he only gets the chance to step forwards and to open his mouth, about to tell his brother that, that’s enough of that, when you shove Sherlock’s hands roughly back towards him. Then you stand up and whirl around, brushing against the consulting detective as you do so, and Mycroft only gets to see the glare that you’re wearing for the briefest of seconds, before your face softens a little when your eyes come to lock with his once more. 

 

Then, making up your mind, you stride towards him, and Mycroft feels his throat going a little dry as he sees the fierce look of determination that you’re wearing as you do so, for in that moment you look so captivatingly beautiful to him that he can’t take his eyes off you. And then, when you reach him you take the glass of wine that he’s carrying, before you put it quickly aside on top of the wooden cabinet that’s by the small bookshelf. Then you grab at his hand, tug him out of the room and make to lead the way upstairs, and Mycroft’s head spins as you do so.

 

As soon as you enter the bedroom you let go of his hand and turn towards him, before you get in a tone that sounds both half-frustrated and half-apologetic, “I'm fed up of your brother and I'm fed up of not being able to do _this_.” And then you’re kissing him and causing the door to let out a shuddery sound as you push him back against it and Mycroft’s struggling to think coherently at the feel of your hands running all over his shirt as he kisses you back. Then he finds himself letting out a soft groan into your mouth when you move your hands up and run them through his hair, before you slide the side of them down against his cheeks, whilst you continue to twist and writhe against him. But he’s barely started to respond to what’s suddenly happening when you change things again by letting out a pleasurable sound of satisfaction into his mouth, before you twist and turn him until he falls on top of the bed. 

 

You fall on top of him a moment later and he lets out a little surprised breath at the feel of you suddenly over him, before he eagerly kisses you back when you join your lips together once more. 

 

Then, becoming more and more consumed by his own desire he rolls you over so that he’s the one now on top of you, before he begins to kiss at your neck, and the giggles that you release as soon as he begins to do so send a shiver of delight running right through him so he moves up so that he can kiss you on the lips once more. 

 

But as soon as you begin to attempt to unbutton his shirt and the first snatch of cool air tickles against his bare skin the fact that you haven’t got the house to yourselves any more comes back to him and he pulls away from you, before he breathes, “I don’t think we should”- 

 

Yet, “They’re busy,” you protest, before you buck your hips a little against him and wear a teasing smile on your face as you add, “Besides we’ll be quiet, _very_ quiet.” And your words make him smile again, before he leans down so that he can kiss you some more. 

 

Yet your lips have only come together briefly again when a yell of, “F/N! F/N! John said that I can’t take anything out of your fridge, but I can, can’t I?” comes, and you let out a groan against Mycroft’s lips, whilst he lets out a bit of an irritated breath against yours. 

 

Then he smiles apologetically at you for the briefest of moments, before he lifts himself up so that he’s hovering above you with his hands either side of you on the duvet. And then, whilst your head turns towards the door and Mycroft’s own head faces the headboard, he calls back, “Some of the things in the fridge are mine too Sherlock, and no, you’re most _definitely_ not allowed to touch them,” and you can’t help but let out an amused breath now, which makes Mycroft smile momentarily down at you. 

 

But then, “Where’s F/N?” comes Sherlock’s stroppy, demanding voice a moment later. 

 

And you have to stifle a bit of a giggle now, both at how childlike Sherlock sounds and at how horrified you know he’d be if he knew where you were in that moment, and you only have to do such a thing even more when Mycroft decides to reply wryly, “Trying to take a moment’s peace from you I should imagine,” and as he finishes he shoots you another quick smile. 

 

Yet, “Don’t be silly Mycroft, F/N _likes_ me, so she wouldn't be trying to avoid me,” Sherlock calls back, and you notice that he sounds a little indignant now. 

 

So, “ _Does_ she?” Mycroft quips, and his voice is full of amusement now, before he adds, “Well I don’t think she was that charmed by your behaviour at lunch, so I think we’ll have to let her decide for herself about that one,” and now as he looks back at you, you shake your head to jokingly tell him that you _don’t_ like Sherlock, and his eyes shine with mirth for a moment, before he presses a quick kiss to your lips. 

 

Yet when Sherlock says, “Yes, when you find her you should ask her,” and, “Tell her to come down soon too would you?” although he sounds suspicious he sounds a world away from knowing where you _actually_ are, so you have to go back to stifling your giggles once more, and Mycroft looks down at you softly, before he brushes a strand of hair back from your face. 

 

The act of him doing so makes your face turn more serious and intent again, and as you lower your hand from your mouth for a moment the both of you just go back to staring longingly at each other, whilst Sherlock meanwhile must have given up on waiting for a response because you don’t hear from him again. 

 

But instead of going back to the pleasurable activity that Sherlock had interrupted Mycroft simply lets out a bit of a sigh a moment later, before he says, “We should probably go back down.”

 

So you nod, knowing that it’s pointless to try and persuade him otherwise. But still you can’t resist trying to brighten his mood again by asking, “Later?” 

 

And, “Mmm definitely,” Mycroft murmurs automatically, and his lips go to press one final kiss to your neck, before he clambers off you. 

 

Then you smile at each other again in the next few moments as you begin to inspect and tidy each other up, and Mycroft’s hands go to sort out your hair, whilst yours go to adjust and smooth down his shirt. 

 

And then it’s decided that you’ll make your way downstairs first so as to not make it too overtly obvious to the others what you've been doing, though they’ll probably guess if they haven’t already you know, but _still_ …and your hands go to tidy up your hair further as you go down because you’re pretty sure that Mycroft’s hands were doing more pleasurable exploring of it than tidying just now. Not that you mind that particular fact of course. 

 

Yet when you enter the living room it takes barely a moment after Sherlock peers over the top of the settee, where he’s sitting, to look at you, before his face tenses. And you can tell that he knows what you've been doing already so your hands automatically go to smooth down your jumper in an attempt to look more presentable. 

 

Then when he gives you a bit of a disgusted glare, before he swings back around to face the front with a thump, you quip, “It’s nice to see you too Sherlock,” in an attempt to brush everything off more, as if you’d just popped to the toilet or something. And then you make your way over to sit on the settee beside him since John’s now sitting on the armchair that Mycroft was sitting on earlier, whilst Mrs. Hudson is sitting on the one at the other end. 

 

But, “Don’t worry about him, he’s just annoyed that you missed him doing his stunningly accurate impression of Anderson,” John informs you, complimenting Sherlock in a backhanded fashion to try and keep his mood at bay, and you, knowing full well what he’s doing, just smile. 

 

Yet when you catch sight of how Sherlock’s fighting to keep the scowl on his face and not smile at John’s words himself, you have to laugh, before you decide to treat him like the child he’s been acting all day. So you lean forwards and pinch at his cheek, before you coo, “Aw, is that right Sherly werly, have you been missing me?” in a babyish voice. 

 

And Sherlock pushes your hand away, before he wriggles back from you, which makes you laugh even more. Then he says, “Get off me F/N, I'm not a child”-

 

Yet, “You've certainly been acting like one,” comes an amused voice from behind you, and you exchange an easy smile with Mycroft when he comes to sit down on the other side of you. 

 

Sherlock meanwhile just scowls even more at his brother’s remark and at your naturally happy reaction to him, before he folds his arms and comments, “I thought the Queen’s speech was pre-recorded?” 

 

So, _“Hmm?”_ Mycroft questions, as he tangles his hand with yours upon your leg, and he can’t help but notice the way that his brother’s head is half-tilted towards him as he does so. 

 

Then, “You disappeared moments before the Queen’s Speech started and oddly enough re-appeared just after it came to an end,” Sherlock goes on, and he looks satisfied with himself in a thoughtful kind of way for a moment. But then, as his eyes roam down to where your hand’s linked with Mycroft’s, a bitter expression twists its way across his face, before he states, “I expect that’s what F/N was doing in your bedroom upstairs.” Then he finishes rather scathingly, “ _Helping_ you with your appearance for your big speech.” 

 

And you glare at Sherlock at that. 

 

But Mycroft simply states, “ _Our_ bedroom.” Then at the look of frustration that Sherlock gives him he goes on, “I know you’re rather innocent about these matters Sherlock, but I'm sure that even _you’re_ not innocent enough to believe that F/N and I have had separate bedrooms since we've been living together,” and he gives a bit of a prominent pause now, before he goes on a little mockingly, “Or perhaps you think that F/N is going to _borrow_ the handcuffs that she gave me so that she can use them in her line of work,” and you, feeling embarrassed at that, nudge Mycroft’s shoulder with yours to tell him off, for you've had quite enough references made to certain aspects of your love-life already today and you don’t need any more. 

 

Yet when Sherlock states, “No, _I'm_ not that innocent and it may surprise you but I know _exactly_ what F/N intends to use those handcuffs for. Clearly F/N is a lot more innocent than she’d have us believe though”- you stiffen, whilst something goes plummeting down through your stomach. 

 

And, “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Mycroft asks sharply as his hand tenses against yours. 

 

So, “Well she must be,” Sherlock begins as he unfolds his arms and draws himself up, “When you consider that she’s obviously quite content to let another Christmas go by, another _year_ go by, without you putting a ring on her finger.”

 

You feel shocked by that. Too shocked to speak. And so it’s left for Mycroft’s hand to shift against yours slightly, before he says quietly, “I think you should stop speaking now Sherlock.” 

 

But Sherlock simply says, “Or _what_? Are you going to make me?” as he saunters to his feet. 

 

And, “Perhaps, for once, I should,” Mycroft murmurs in a rather threatening fashion, as he takes his hand off yours now and gets to his feet too.

 

But Sherlock, far from deterred just looks grimly satisfied as he looks at his brother for a moment. Then he turns his head to you and announces, “See? This is the type of man my brother really is F/N, he’s the sort of man who when he was a boy used to”- 

 

“I don’t _care_ ,” you exclaim angrily, for you have no interest in what Mycroft used to do to annoy Sherlock when they were both children, and then as you get to your feet-the same time as John does in fact-you look between them and snap, “Will you two just stop arguing for _one_ minute?” Then you push yourself in between them, and they both smart with a crackling energy as you place a hand on each of their chest’s to try and keep them back from each other. And as you do you can’t help but feel embarrassed at the scene they’re insisting on making and at how childish they’re both acting. 

 

Whilst, “ _Sherlock”-_ John attempts, his voice tense. 

 

But, “Usually I’d try to adhere to your wishes F/N, but this is important,” Sherlock gets out as he ignores John altogether and gazes at you rather coolly for a moment, before his eyes harden significantly as they go back to fix on his brother.

 

And you shoot Sherlock a rather incredulous look now. For can’t he see that he’s making you upset? And that by continuing to talk he’ll probably just end up making you more so? And more to the point when has he _ever_ tried to adhere to your wishes anyway? 

 

Yet Mycroft gets your attention a moment later when he takes a similarly dismissive view of you as he states, “There’s no need for that F/N,” and he nods at the hand of yours that’s on his chest now. Then he adds, “I can assure you that despite my brother’s clear thoughts to the contrary I will not make to hit him now, no matter what he should say”-

 

But, “ _I’ll_ decide what I feel is necessary,” you tell him coolly, before you press your splayed hand more insistently against him when he attempts to push forwards a little, and you feel a small sense of relief inside you when he doesn't make to move forwards again. 

 

Yet Sherlock says just a moment later, “Oh, don’t kid yourself F/N,” in a loud and mocking tone, as he successfully manages to get your attention again. Then when you open your mouth to ask him what on earth he means he goes on, “I've seen the way that you've felt happy every time you think that my brother’s listened to you today, every time that you've felt you've managed to control him. But it’s a lie, you’re fooling yourself, he’s letting you think that you’re in control but you’re never going to be in control of him F/N. You know what job he does. You know how much in control he always is. So what makes you think he’s treating you any differently from the way he'd treat anyone else?” 

 

Yet, “He _loves_ me”- you begin, feeling angry now. 

 

But, “ _Does_ he?” Sherlock asks, before he goes on, “Because being unable to commit to someone after they've given five years of their life to you doesn't sound like love to me”-

 

Yet it’s you who ends up interrupting Sherlock a moment later, for when you feel the slight push of Mycroft’s chest against your hand you get out, _“Myc,”_ in one, tight breath, pleading for him not to make things worse as you keep your head slightly tilted towards the floor rather than looking at either of them. 

 

And Mycroft, perhaps sensing how desperate you're beginning to feel and how much you want everything to stop, looks down at you, but it’s only for the briefest of moments, before his eyes, which are now cold and steely, go to his brother’s once more. Then he breathes out, “So, am I to take it that this is the real reason that you forced yourself on us today? To begin another round of your silliness where you try to convince F/N that I'm not good enough for her?” and you can tell that it’s taking every ounce of his strength to get the words out in an even tone. 

 

But, “It’s not silly,” Sherlock spits out, though you notice that he avoids looking at his brother as he does so. Then, “Nor should it be to F/N, it’s her future, she should be in control of it, not you,” he gets out and you let out a little breath as he looks at you and your eyes meet. 

 

Yet Mycroft says, “Yes, I quite agree that F/N should be in control of her own future, but by that logic she should be in control of her present too, and I know for a fact that she wanted to spend Christmas alone with me today”-

 

So, _“Myc”-_ you begin to protest desperately, for why does he have to keep bringing that up?

 

But he just pushes forwards against your hand a little more now, before he asks, “Do you have any idea how hard F/N and I both work? Do you have any idea how rare it is for us to get to spend a whole day together? Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to the prospect of doing so?” as his eyes fix hard onto his brother. 

 

And as he finishes now your eyes shine with something. Then, as he swallows, before he looks down at you, you breathe out, _“Myc…”_ in a tone full of wonder, for you can tell that he’s being painfully honest now, and you can feel how much his body is quivering with anger and upset over the whole intrusion that Sherlock has caused you, and because of such a thing your hand makes to go up towards his cheek immediately so that you can comfort him. 

 

But, “They’re just words”- Sherlock begins, hating the way that you’re so easily won over by his brother, and your hand falters on its journey to Mycroft’s cheek, before it reluctantly slides down to push against Mycroft’s chest when he attempts to come forwards some more. 

 

Then slowly, you turn your head back to Sherlock and shake it a little as you tell him, “They’re not just words.”

 

But, “They _are_ ,” Sherlock tells you, taking a little step forwards himself now as he tries to impress this point upon you, and your hand comes to rest against his chest more firmly as a result. Then, “Why can’t you see what he’s doing?” he asks you, “Why can’t you see how much he’s trying to control you? How much he’s _using_ you for his own needs until”-

 

But that’s as far enough as he gets, for Mycroft, having had a sufficient amount of this, tugs at you, whirling you around until you’re behind him. Then, feeling convinced that he’s going to attack his brother by the way that he takes a step forwards you make a whimpering kind of noise, before you clutch onto his arm, as you peer around his shoulder. And, _“Myc,”_ you urge. 

 

Whilst John takes a small step towards Mycroft a moment later as he gets out a warning, _“Mycroft.”_ For he’s far from happy with the way that things seem to be escalating rather than calming down. 

 

But Mycroft, instead of attacking his brother, merely states, “It’s been over five years since F/N and I started dating each other Sherlock, if I was using her, which I'm not, then I don’t think I would have stuck by her for this long would I?”

 

“Then why don’t you commit to her?” Sherlock asks shrewdly, “If you’re not using her then why don’t you ask her to marry you?” 

 

And, _“I”-_ Mycroft begins falteringly.

 

But, “That’s right,” Sherlock says, and he sounds disgusted now, “You’re quick enough to take her to bed, but slow enough when it comes to asking her anything of importance”-

 

And as Mycroft lunges forwards now you let out a scream of, _“Mycroft!”_ before you wrap your arms around his middle and use all your strength to pull him back, whilst Mrs. Hudson gasps and John darts forwards to help assist you. 

 

Then, when the eldest Holmes brother finally allows himself to be pulled back, you breathe hard for a moment, before you step in between them again, this time with your hands outstretched so that you’re protecting Sherlock from him. 

 

But, “How many times have you had sex compared to the amount of really important conversations that you've had with my brother F/N? How many?” Sherlock goes on behind you, and he sounds even more desperate to make you see his version of sense now.

 

Yet, “Don’t you dare say that I don’t care for F/N, that I'm not doing right by her,” Mycroft huffs out shakily as he steps forwards a little, and you automatically go to push both of your hands against one of his shoulders to get him to step back again. 

 

Then, “Please, _please_ just calm down,” you breathe tremulously into his ear, your body shaking against his and tears of desperation beginning to leak out of your eyes.

 

But, “How many?” Sherlock demands. 

 

And finally you snap, _“I DON’T KNOW!”_ as you whirl around, your cheeks flushed and your hands now curling into fists by your side. And in that moment, as you see the grim look of satisfaction that emerges on Sherlock’s face, you feel for a moment like hitting him yourself. For why has he come here to spoil your Christmas? Why has he come here to push at aspects of your relationship with Mycroft? Why can’t he just let you be happy together? But you don’t get the chance to step forwards and hit Sherlock; you don’t even get the chance to step forwards. In fact all your body gets the chance to do is shake and curl up a bit into itself, your arms coming up so that your elbows dig into your stomach as it does so, because in the next moment you feel a pair of strong arms around you.

 

Then Mycroft holds you as he orders his brother, “Leave, leave right now or I won’t spare your feelings in this any longer Sherlock, I’ll tell F/N everything,” and you turn your head around to look at him, asking him with your eyes what he means, and your lips part slightly as you do so. 

 

Yet as Sherlock huffs out a breath, before he draws himself up, shrugging his shoulders and looking as if he’s readying himself for something as he does so, your eyes go back to him. Then they gradually begin to widen in the next moment when Sherlock blurts out a resigned, _“Fine,”_ before he comes towards you, his eyes slowly sliding to your face, whilst a small yet determined smile appears on his features as he takes you in. And then he takes the tips of your fingers gently with his, before he blurts out, “Marry me”-

 

But that’s as far as he gets, for you yell out a, _“WHAT?”_ of astonishment, whilst John gapes and Mrs. Hudson lets out a bit of a gasp as she clutches at her chest with both of her hands. 

 

But Mycroft meanwhile says, “Usually it’s customary to go down on one knee brother,” with a bit of a snort as he feigns a polite indifference to the proceedings that are happening before him.

 

And you look at him instinctively now, and if you hadn't known him as well as you do then perhaps you would have thought that he truly _didn't_ care about what was happening and felt hurt by it. But you do know him. So as you take in the tightness around his jaw and the way that there’s a darkness lurking in his blue eyes you also take in the fear that lurks just beneath the surface there too. And as you do so you can sense in that moment that he honestly believes there's a chance that you might accept Sherlock's proposal and turn your back on him. 

 

Then as Mycroft lets go of you slowly he informs you, “My brother has had a little crush on you for a while F/N,” coolly, with his brow slightly furrowed above the blue eyes that gaze at you steadily as he does so. 

 

And even though part of you just wants to grab Mycroft in that moment and shake him, whilst you tell him that he doesn't have to put his defences up because its only ever been him that you've been interested in, you find that all you can do is splutter, “Well, yeah, I think I'm beginning to get that now,” in a stunned sort of fashion. Then you swivel back to look at Sherlock as you say, “But Sherlock…what? _How-?”_

 

Yet, “When you first moved into 221C all those years ago it wasn't long before my brother grew fond of you,” Mycroft continues, so your attention goes back to him once more. 

 

But, “It wasn't long either, before I realized that, much to my horror and initial disgust, my feelings had developed even more for you,” Sherlock says, taking up the strand of the story now so your focus goes back to him. Yet he lets out a bit of a sigh a moment later. Then he reveals, “But then you met”-

 

“You met me F/N,” Mycroft interjects softly, and as your own gaze turns back to look at him your face softens too. Then, “And I was equally as charmed by you, if not more so than my brother had been, and for the first time in my life I fell in love,” and something inside you sighs pleasantly at that. Though your face quickly changes to become more serious a moment later when Mycroft’s face stiffens, before he confesses, “But as we grew closer to both my delight and eternal surprise, my brother, who felt like he’d developed a distinct claim of ownership on you by then, was fuming. I think he quite believed that I was stealing you from him deliberately and that I've been doing so ever since”-

 

And you feel like you need a bit more space then to breathe freely, so you turn and take a few steps forwards, as far as you can go, before you turn around again to see that they’re now forming a ‘V’ shape, as they both stand side by side, half-turned to each other, whilst they look towards you. 

 

Then, “It was clear to me from the start that my brother went after you for no more reason than to spite me,” Sherlock says, as he takes up the story once more, before he goes on, “He’d known what my feelings were for you, before he even met you, and so I am telling you, that if you want a relationship with someone who _truly_ feels that way about you then you should accept my proposal and come back to Baker Street at once.” 

 

And you swallow as you look at him now, before your eyes turn back to Mycroft, who stands there, perfectly straight and not saying a word, whilst he looks at a spot somewhere over your shoulder. And you can tell as you look at him that he’s not going to ask you to marry him to counter his brother’s own proposal and nor is he going to say a word in his own defence either, even though you can tell from the slight twitching of his fingers and the way that he’s forcing himself to breathe deeply that he wants to. Rather he’s going to let you decide, no matter how painful the outcome might be for him. 

 

But, “He’ll never ask you to marry him F/N,” Sherlock tells you quietly, and there’s no malice in his one now, just a sadness for you and what you’ll have to go through if you decide to accept his proposal, before you can live happily together. “He’ll never fool around with you the way I will, or make you laugh as much as I know I can. He’ll only ever play games with you reluctantly and you’ll never be able to guarantee his presence on days that are important to you. He’ll let you down and make you cry and you’ll be so hurt and frustrated from it all that eventually”-

 

But, “I _love_ him,” you interrupt now, and though your words are softly spoken and they float lightly through the air they are ones that you feel so deep and solidly within you, words that you know without doubt to be true, and as Mycroft finally looks back at you there’s surprise in his eyes. Yet this might be a matter, which is only getting resolved between the brothers today, but for you it’s one that you’d decided long ago. For ever since you’d first set eyes on Mycroft, let alone before you’d even started to get to know him properly, you’d felt something deeper and more complicated for him than you’d ever felt for Sherlock. So it’s Sherlock you look back to now, for it's Sherlock who doesn't understand and Sherlock you need to tell, “I know you find the fact that I love your brother hard to understand, and I know that you’ll always find it easier to blame him than me. But though I'm truly grateful for you trying to look out for me, I think, at the end of the day, your behaviour says more about your relationship with your brother than it does about mine. And what I think you're failing to understand in all of this is that this is my fault too. That I'm as much to blame as Mycroft for the fact that we haven’t got married by now, and it’s about time that I did something about that. So”- you break off, and then you let out a little breath, before knowing instinctively what you both need and want to happen next, you go across to Mycroft, fix your eyes on him and see how his eyes widen and how his breath visibly hitches in his chest as you do so. Then you drop down onto one knee and take one of his large hands in between both of your own, whilst you peer up at him, before you say, “I know you’d never ask me to marry you, and because this wasn't exactly planned I don’t have a ring to offer you right now either,” and you let out a bit of a breath at that and look down momentarily because you can hardly believe that you’re doing this yourself. And then you look back steadily up at him, before you go on, “But I do have something I _can_ offer you, and that’s myself. So if-if that’s enough for you then, then Mycroft Holmes will you marry me?” 

 

And Mycroft lets out a bit of a sharp breath then, whilst something wavers in his eyes as his fingers instinctively tighten upon one of your hands. Then, “Yes, yes I will,” he breathes, and you make a shaky sound of relief, whilst tears stream down your face, before you stand and fling yourself into his arms. 

 

You don’t know when it happens. All you know is that sometime during the time when your face is pressed against Mycroft’s shoulder and you’re crying into his shirt, whilst your body shakes and he holds you securely to him you hear the front door slam. And you know instinctively, even without looking, that Sherlock’s just left the house. Mycroft kisses your hair a moment later. And then you feel someone patting you gently on the back and you hear Mrs. Hudson and John’s soft murmurs of congratulations to you both, before you feel the slight shift of Mycroft nodding somewhere above you. Then suddenly they’re gone and Mycroft and you are just left standing there in the wreckage that Sherlock has left behind and with this new slightly scary but fresh path in front of you.

 

And the both of you just stay like that for a moment, you standing there with your breaths and tears coming out as steadily as one another, whilst your body calms down from its trembling, and Mycroft with his hands on your back as he holds you close to him and his face serious and attentive as he registers the fact that you’re slowly beginning to recover from everything that the day has hit you with. 

 

Then, tentatively, you draw your head back from his shoulder and blink a little to get your eyes out of their haze, before you whimper out, _“Myc,”_ and, _“Mycroft,”_ your voice first laced with a sob and then with relief as the fact that you've been hit with detriment after possible detriment to your relationship all day and still somehow managed to come through it all together registers with you. 

 

 _“F/N,”_ Mycroft breathes out in one shuddery breath in response a moment later. Then, “Come,” he tells you softly, before he slowly guides you back to the settee, and you sit down on it together, with Mycroft only taking his hand off your arms when he’s lowered you down upon it and he can see that you’re in a steady position. 

 

Then, for a moment you just sit side-by-side close together as you both try and take in everything that’s happened during the day. 

 

But though what's happened during the day has both troubled and frightened him, it's what's happened just now that Mycroft feels currently more scared about, not to mention completely disbelieving. So, as a worry that it might all not be true, for it's only now that he's realised how much he wants it to be, he looks back and forth to you uncertainly, whilst his hands fidget slightly together. Then he turns towards you and asks, “Did you mean it?” and, “The proposal?” he adds when you just look at him in a daze. 

 

And your face clears and softens as he does so, before you cup his cheek with a tender hand as you breathe, “Of course, of course I meant it.” But then as a more worrying prospect comes to your mind you ask him, “Did you mean it when you said ‘yes’?”

 

So, “Yes,” Mycroft says quickly, for he now knows that his earlier worry has become yours and he doesn't want you getting anxious. But then he chuckles a little in a watery fashion as he realizes what he’s just said, before he confirms, “Yes, I meant it when I said ‘yes’.”

 

And your expression clears once more with relief, before you let out a little breath. Then, “Good,” you tell him, before you slip your shoes off and shift your position so that you’re now lying down across the settee with your head resting upon his lap. 

 

And for a few moments Mycroft just brushes your hair back from your face as he peers down at you, before he looks away again. 

 

And you watch him silently for a moment, taking in the way that a slow cloud creeps across his face. Then, not wanting him to get lost in himself again, you reach up a hand so that you can undo the top two of his shirt buttons, and he looks down at you curiously, before he listens as you muse, “You thought I was going to choose him didn't you?” and, “It may not have been for very long, but just for a moment, despite everything that we've been through and despite the fact that I would have hoped that you’d have more faith in our relationship by now, you thought I was going to go back to Baker Street with him…” 

 

And Mycroft lets out a little breath, before he slowly nods. Then, “You looked so happy with them earlier, the way you were laughing, I”-

 

But, “They’re my friends,” you protest, and you push yourself up into a sitting position now by putting your hands on his legs. Then, “Of course I was happy to see them and spend time with them,” you tell him as you stroke the side of his face carefully with your hand, before you urge, “But you’re my boyfriend, _you’re_ the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with.” And then, when you see that he’s looking hesitantly happier you slip back down so that your head’s against his lap again, before you take his hand in yours and toy with it for a moment, holding it up so that it’s in front of your face. Then you ask him, “Why did you never tell me about how your brother felt?” with a bit of a frown on your face, before you add, “ _All_ this time you knew, and you've had to watch me talking to him and laughing and messing around and you never once said a word.”

 

And Mycroft thinks about it all for another moment himself, before he tugs his hand free from yours and brushes at your hair again as he murmurs, “I suppose, because I didn't want you to feel like you had to act differently or like you couldn't contact him. I know you're very fond of him and quite frankly your influence has been a good one on him.”

 

But, “It must have been hard?” you persist, for you still can’t understand how he’s managed to keep it to himself for all this time. 

 

And he lets out a little weary breath now and you can feel the warmth of it skimming lightly across your face. Then, “Yes it was, _very_ ,” he confesses, before his hand brushes more firmly against your hair as he goes on, “But I wanted to trust him, and I suppose too that I was worried that you’d think I was overreacting if I told you,” and as he finishes you can tell that him worrying about what your perception of him would be had been one of the main reasons that he’d forced himself to keep silent on the matter. 

 

So once more you sit up, but this time, instead of stroking his face you press a gentle kiss to his lips, before you pull back and tell him softly, “Thank you for being honest with me,” and Mycroft half-smiles at you. 

 

But then something changes in his face again and he leans back from you a little, before he says, “I need you to be honest with me too.” And then he takes both of your hands in his as he goes on, “What my brother-what _Sherlock_ said-or rather implied today about the amount of control I have over you”-

 

But, “Myc, you must know yourself that he was exaggerating,” you interrupt him, before you let out a bit of a breath and then go on, “I know you have _some_ control over me, what with the security detail you put in place for me and everything, but I know too that, that’s just to protect me.” Then you pull a bit of a face, before you add, “I mean you've never tried to choose my clothes for a start, and you probably never would,” before you can’t help but add flirtatiously, “Unless I _wanted_ you to of course,” with more of a playful smile. 

 

And his lips quirk upward now, before he tells you, “Yes, I'm sure we’ll come onto that,” as he brushes a piece of hair back from your face and once more you smile at him. Then, feeling this moment of seriousness you’re in is slowly breaking you move so that you’re straddling his lap. 

 

And as his body arches up into yours without being able to help it, whilst his hands instinctively go to your waist, he breathes, _“F/N,”_ and half-closes his eyes as he does so. Then he opens them properly as he protests, “I'm _trying_ to be serious.”

 

“So am I,” you tell him quite seriously, before you go on with both a determination and a mock innocence about you, “I'm trying to _seriously_ demonstrate how much I love you, and if”- and now you thrust your body against his and he lets out a gasp, half-closing his eyes again as he does so-“I'm right,” you continue rather triumphantly, “Then the feeling’s mutual.”

 

“You know _damn_ well it’s mutual,” he tells you with a bit of a growl, as his head still spins from your action. Then, “But are you sure that”- he begins when it clears some more. 

 

So, “Am I sure that you’re not a dominating, control freak when I don’t want you to be?” you quip, before you proceed to ask another question, “And am I sure that I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?” and then you proceed to consider both things for a moment. Then, “Um, yes and yes,” you tell him, before you murmur, “So that dirty weekend in Paris then?” in a seductive tone, as your hands slowly begin to open up the top of his shirt more to reveal the flesh that’s there. 

 

But, “Never mind that,” Mycroft begins a little dismissively in a low tone, his hands firm as they rest upon your waist now, “What about those handcuffs?” 

 

And your own lips quirk upward now, before you exchange a knowing look that’s full of raised eyebrows with each other. Then you scramble off his lap and hurriedly make to grab the lumpy f/c package, which contains the pair of handcuffs, that’s underneath the tree, whilst Mycroft walks swiftly out of the room and towards the stairs. 

 

But when you see him standing halfway up them with his body half-turned back as he waits for you and his hand resting against the banister a further idea strikes you. So you turn away from him and make your way off hurriedly to the kitchen instead. 

 

Yet, _“F/N?”_ Mycroft calls a little anxiously after you, as he wonders what you’re delay can possibly be about. 

 

So, _“Coming!”_ you yell back at him, before you grab a piece of gold tinsel from where its draped by the window. Then you hurry back to him. 

 

His lip quirks upward as soon as he sees the tinsel and the way that you’re grinning up at him mischievously.

 

Then he swoops back down and lifts you and everything that you’re carrying up into his arms, before he takes you upstairs so that you can finally both do what you've been wanting to all day, closing the bedroom door behind him with his foot as he does so.


End file.
